Two Hearts Beat Until They're Broken
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "There is No Better Part of Me, You'll See." Following the departure of a foreign champion, Dean Ambrose sets his sights on winning over Molly Parker in an entirely conventional way. Rated M: Language, mild violence, sex
1. Chapter 1

Wade watched in silence from the door while Molly slept.

She must have been exhausted; she hadn't moved at all in the last several minutes.

He'd been surprised when del Rio had left without so much as another word about taking her with him. She must have refused his offer.

He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or upset by the news.

He closed his eyes. Why continue lying to himself? A cold wave of relief had washed over him, knowing that she would be staying. It might not be the wisest choice or the best situation for either of them, but he knew that having her thousands of miles – truly, an entire world – away from him would eventually mean his death.

He shook his head angrily, loathing his life for the first time. There had never been a woman he'd cared for so deeply. It was part of the reason he hadn't minded marrying Abigail when the time came to do so. He doubted that he ever would care much about anyone, and their chemistry at the time had been explosive.

Explosive until they married and he bought her a house. She had then refused to touch him, no matter how much he begged.

Now he doubted he'd even be able to get aroused at the sight of her. A man can only tolerate cruelty from a woman for so long before the effects were irreversible.

He wondered how long it would take Molly to feel that way about him. What he was doing certainly was cruel – keeping her so close, yet refusing to act on emotions he knew both of them shared. He was breaking her heart – and his own – every moment of every day.

He couldn't think of a harsher form of cruelty.

Closing his eyes, suddenly weary, he gently closed her door. He felt ill and desperately unhappy as he retreated from her.

The realization was swift and harsh, and it nearly doubled him over.

There would be no happy ending here.

Not for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Ambrose watched Molly the following morning quite closely, although he attempted to be discrete about it.

She didn't seem quite as afraid of him. She was wary, of course, and still avoided him as much as she could. But she seemed a bit more at ease.

Barrett had told him it would be Molly's choice. He didn't think intimidating her into marriage would work as well as bullying her into bed had. Even that had come with mixed success, at best. He needed to be cautious, proceed slowly, and allow her to think that he was gradually coming around to being a gentle, loving man.

He wasn't.

She both fascinated and irritated him. He knew that she wasn't mentally or emotionally attracted to him. Perhaps not even physically attracted, beyond what he could do to her with his various body parts. And yet she didn't raise any alarm when he pursued her. She didn't cry for help. She merely fought him tooth and nail for survival – and the surprising, intriguing part was that she'd won at least once.

His irritation was brought on by this very same characteristic of hers – he wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it. And he always got it.

Except for her.

Sure, in their little skirmishes he'd been victorious a few times. But he wasn't used to skirmishing, and he wasn't used to losing. If things had been going his way, he would have been done with her by now.

The fact that he wasn't made him feel strange. He was angry, of course, and wanted to punish her for the rest of her life. But there was a grudging sense of admiration for her, as well. Not many people would continue standing against him after what he'd done to her.

She made him feel conflicted, and he didn't like that. Not one bit.

He realized that the room had fallen silent. Glancing up from the table, he saw several pairs of eyes turned towards him. Most looked concerned, but Barrett looked weary and Molly looked frightened.

He'd been brooding, he realized, releasing the lower lip that was trapped between his teeth.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "What?"

"I was asking how you were feeling after your fight with Mr. del Rio," Barrett repeated patiently.

"Fine." He glanced up at Molly, forcing his eyes to soften slightly. "Great," he amended, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Conflicted or not, the show must go on.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly was relieved when her day was over.

She retreated to her room and sat on her bed, hands folded between her knees, for a long time. An outside observer might think she was a statue she sat so still.

Her brain was whirring with great speed, attempting to process the last approximately forty-eight hours of her life.

First, the unsurprising revelation that she cared for Mr. Barrett deeply, and in a manner beyond platonic. This was followed by the very surprising revelation that he felt the same way, accompanied by a frustratingly aborted attempt at a first kiss.

Second, Mr. Ambrose had intruded on her distressing thoughts that she and Mr. Barrett could never be that close again. She thought he had simply wanted an apology, which she had given freely. And then he had….

Afterwards, she had attempted to soldier on as best she could. She thought she had a small measure of success. She had turned Mr. Barrett away, as difficult as that was, and was offered a chance to leave this increasingly bizarre and hostile situation she found herself in.

Before she could truly consider the offer, Mr. Ambrose had intervened and had given her further reason to fear him and what he might be capable of doing to her. He had then, in some way, persuaded Mr. del Rio to rescind his offer.

She had watched him beat the man bloody and had decided, in that moment his arm was raised in victory, to give in before she was harmed. At the end of the day, constantly battling over something she thought she may want anyway seemed foolish.

She was ready last night. She had mentally prepared herself; pushing away the revulsion and fear she felt when he touched her. Closing her eyes and pretending for a few moments that it was someone she actually cared for, someone who had never and would never hurt her.

It almost made it bearable.

Then, most surprising of all – he had stopped. She had even offered him the opportunity to take what he wanted without a fight, and he had refused her.

She couldn't pretend to understand what that meant, or what his thoughts on the matter were.

She'd like to say that it troubled her, but the truth was that she slept better last night than she had in weeks. She hadn't been afraid that he might suddenly arrive. Even if he did, she at least knew that there would be no more struggling.

This morning, her head was a bit clearer, and she was slightly more concerned about the practical implications of this series of events.

She didn't believe that Mr. Ambrose was the type of man to basically give up once his desire was within reach. She had heard men discuss the thrill of the hunt, and it seemed that he would enjoy such a thing. But she very much doubted that he wouldn't take his prize at the end. It simply did not fit what she knew of him.

This left the unsettling probability that he had something else in mind.

She shook her head, angry and afraid. It wasn't enough that he wanted to harm her physically, now it seemed that his intent was to attack her mental and emotional well-being.

Unhappily, she knew that the time had long passed to tell Mr. Barrett about all of these happenings.

Resigning herself to that fate, she stood and moved towards the door, feeling a heaviness on her heart. She grasped the knob and pulled the door open, jumping back when Mr. Ambrose stood in the frame with his fist poised to knock.


	4. Chapter 4

"You startled me," she said by way of greeting.

He pulled his lips into a smile. "My apologies." He stepped into her room, forcing her to retreat. "You are done for the day, yes?" She nodded hesitantly. "Come walk with me." He offered her his arm.

For a moment it seemed that she would not accept, and he felt irritation bubble in his chest. Then, cautiously, she reached out and gripped his elbow with her hand.

He led her out of the house and down the street, not attempting any conversation yet. She still seemed wary, but she had accepted. He hadn't expected her to do so with such ease. It was, he hoped, a good sign.

As they approached his new house, he began to speak.

"Do you like it here, Molly?" He glanced down at her, forcing a smile onto his face. "The neighborhood, I mean."

"It's a very nice place," she replied carefully.

"Would you stay here after you left Mr. Barrett's employ?"

He had caught her off-guard. "I hadn't considered it," she finally replied.

"I like it here very much," he said, slowing his pace. "In fact," he stopped and turned her towards the house on their right, "this is my new home."

He watched her carefully as she took in the sight of the house. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was neatly kept and rather attractive. He felt something in his chest loosen as a small smile fell on her lips as she examined the small details of the home.

"It's lovely," she finally said, attempting to pull back her enthusiasm. "Congratulations."

"Thank you. Would you like to see the inside?"

He didn't wait for her answer before beginning to walk towards the gate. She followed wordlessly.

He had heard today that the previous owners had been able to vacate earlier than previously thought. He had picked up the keys this afternoon and thought it might be a good way to speed up the process with Miss Molly.

He opened the front door and gestured her inside. Molly found she was surprised that a man like Mr. Ambrose wanted a house, much less one that was obviously suited for a family over a bachelor. She found herself running her fingers over the gleaming woodwork that trimmed the room, closing her eyes to enjoy the light that filtered in through large windows.

"What do you think?" He asked, closer than she anticipated.

"I think it's beautiful," she admitted.

"Would you like to live here?"

She paused for a moment before turning to face him with obvious confusion. "What do you mean? Would I like to come work for you?"

He smiled. "Not quite."

She waited for him to elaborate. He did not. Instead, he grasped her by the hand and showed her the rest of the house, finally leading her upstairs to where he would be sleeping.

The bed had already arrived. It was the only piece of furniture in the house, the only piece he truly needed today.

He allowed her to step in front of him, watching as she examined the headboard and mattress. When she turned, she was surprised to see him watching her with an undeniable softness in his expression.

"What is it?" She asked, self-conscious.

He took several steps towards her and gently placed his hands on her waist. "You seem very much at home here." He paused. "Would you like it to be your home?" He asked again.

"I'm not sure what you're asking," she finally replied after a long silence.

He bent down and kissed her then, forcing himself to keep his lips from being harsh and rough against hers. He pulled back but did not immediately retreat; he moved his mouth instead to her neck, grinning as he felt her pulse pick up beneath his lips.

He swept his hands around her back and began to unbutton her dress. She didn't protest. In a few moments, she was in her underwear in front of him. He allowed his lips to wander further, kissing her collarbone and her breasts, kneeling in front of her to kiss a trail down her abdomen to the very top of her panties.

He looked up at her as he lightly, chastely kissed her over her panties, smiling as her eyes widened.

Standing again, he pulled his own shirt off before moving her by the shoulders to sit on the bed. Bending down, he pulled her shoes off, leaving her stockings on. He kicked his own shoes off and then with a light but firm hand, pushed her onto her back by her shoulders.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over her for a moment before bending to kiss her again, pleased when she began to kiss him back. She was getting better at it, he thought, moving to nuzzle her neck with his nose.

She seemed to enjoy the sensation, her hands coming up to run over his arms and back while he returned to kissing her.

"I have a better use for those hands," he murmured in her ear. He brought his hand down and gently toyed with the waist of her panties. "Take those off."


	5. Chapter 5

Molly had wondered for some time how it would feel to have Mr. Ambrose use his mouth on her again.

She was discovering that now.

After she had followed his instructions to undress, he had gently moved her up the bed, placing a pillow under her head. Sliding down her body, he spread her thighs wide and began with a soft closed-mouth kiss that sent an odd tingling sensation throughout her pelvis.

Once he had begun kissing her with his tongue, the sensation became stronger. It was similar to the one she felt when he used his fingers, but more intense.

She cried out when he suddenly began sucking on her; her fingers gripped tightly into the mattress and her body tensed. Surprisingly, he started laughing.

"So nice to actually hear you enjoying yourself," he said before returning to what he had been doing.

His hands ran over her body, up her stocking-clad legs and to her breasts, teasing and toying with her nipples. She pressed against his mouth, unable to stop soft moans from escaping her lips.

He took her hands in his and squeezed them lightly, lacing their fingers together. Molly barely noticed, focused entirely on the sensations his mouth was creating and the soft noises he was making – they sounded hungry, full of wanting. It seemed to make her feel every movement he made even more intensely.

Finally, she gripped his hands with surprising strength and sat nearly bolt-upright in the bed, crying out with no thought – simply incoherent joy.

After several moments of intense pleasure, she fell back onto her back with small beads of sweat forming around her hairline.

He waited, occasionally pushing his tongue out to give her a single lick – the cries and tremors that accompanied those motions both amused and aroused him.

At last, she seemed to have calmed entirely. He moved up the bed to lay on his side next to her, bending his elbow and propping his head up on his hand. "Did you enjoy that?" He asked idly, trailing his fingers down between her breasts.

"Yes," she admitted.

He bent and kissed the very tip of her nose, taking her hand and putting it on his crotch boldly.

She seemed unsure at first, simply running her hand over him through his pants. It was still enough to make his erection throb hopefully, and after a moment he unbuttoned his pants and kicked them and his shorts away.

Very, very gently he wrapped her hand around the base of his penis and began to move it up and down. She didn't protest, and after several slow strokes he removed his guiding hand. She kept going.

He exhaled in relief and positioned himself on his back, turning her body so that she was on her side pressed against him. He kissed her forehead several times, looking down to watch her small, soft hand move against him.

"Grip a little harder," he murmured with his lips pressed into her hair. He was rewarded with her compliance almost immediately. "Perfect. God, perfect." He guided her into adding small twists of her hand and short pauses, and was shortly on the verge of his own orgasm.

He removed her hand, kissing it gently. "Straddle my legs, love," he said, attempting to keep himself calm enough not to rush. She moved slowly, her eyes concerned, but she did it.

The sight of her in only stockings, her breasts hanging inches from him as she tried to move into position, was nearly enough. She spread her thighs over his and he took a hold of her hips, pulling her closer to him.

He ran the very tip of his erection through her still-wet and swollen lips, closing his eyes as the sensation reverberated through his body. Molly moaned quietly as the head of him hit her sensitive clitoris, her body moving unexpectedly in response.

He groaned softly and positioned himself so that his erection lie on his stomach and her wet lips surrounded it. "Move back and forth," he said gently, amazed that she still complied.

His vision became increasingly hazy as she moved with increased speed and fervor, rocking on him and occasionally gasping as their bodies aligned correctly to give her more pleasure. He reached up to grab her breast with one hand, the other moving to her hips to guide her movements.

If a woman had told him before now that she would make him come merely by rubbing herself against him, he would have laughed in her face before pushing her to her knees.

Which was why he was immensely surprised to feel himself tightening, tensing for an orgasm that came with rapidity and intensity.

She paused for a moment, unsure, and he begged her to keep moving, pulling her hips roughly. She watched, fascinated, as several spurts of white liquid shot out onto his stomach. His face was contorted into what looked like an expression of pain, but the sounds coming from his lips weren't pained at all.

She could feel him throbbing against her, an odd but still pleasant sensation. She slowed her movements and he didn't protest, and so she eventually came to a stop.

Wordlessly, he patted the bed beside him, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Moving slightly awkwardly, she dismounted and lay down beside him, keeping a safe distance from his body.

Without opening his eyes, he reached out and yanked her to him before pressing an intense kiss on her lips.

"You," he panted, "did so well, my sweet Molly." His fingers worked his way in between her thighs. "You deserve a reward."


	6. Chapter 6

Ambrose was grinning as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. All he truly needed was a cigarette, and he thought his life would be perfect.

Molly was curled beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. She had dropped off into sleep after her third orgasm, which was much more powerful than the previous ones. The cords on her neck had stood out as her body trembled, her pleasure so intense that no sound escaped her lips – only strangled squeaks.

It had been a glorious sight.

He leaned over and absently kissed her forehead, stroking his thumb over her bare shoulder. He felt satisfied with the day's events and thought that everything had gone much better than he could have anticipated. He had even managed to have a physical release of his own without frightening or upsetting her.

He hadn't expected her to be so willing, or to grow more enthusiastic with time. It had been a very welcome surprise.

She murmured softly in her sleep and moved closer to him. His body stilled immediately and remained that way until her breathing had returned to an even rhythm. He watched her for several minutes, studying the curve of her lips and the soft swoop of her nose.

She was beautiful. He could do much worse. In fact, he had done much worse. The thought caused an unexpected laugh to bubble in his chest and he did his best to hold it back.

"You're going to spend the rest of your wretched days with me," he murmured into her hair. "And there's nothing you'll be able to do to stop that from happening." He kissed her again, amused that she was still sleeping peacefully, with no inkling of the fate that was falling on her head even as she lie beside him.

Moving carefully, he stood and left her sleeping while he sought out the shower downstairs. He found himself whistling a cheerful tune as he soaped his stomach and was surprised by just how good he felt.

When he returned upstairs in search of his clothing, Molly was still asleep. He watched her as he dressed, a small smile finding its way onto his lips. He'd see this every day in short order.

The sun was setting outside, sending a warm orange glow in through the windows. He knew that this peaceful afternoon was drawing to a close, and found he was reluctant to wake her and end it entirely.

The thought rose unbidden that this was not like him, and that it didn't seem as if he was merely playing the part of a good man. He quickly pushed it away. He knew what he was doing.


	7. Chapter 7

Wade Barrett was waiting by the door when Molly and Ambrose strolled in, her hand nestled in the crook of his elbow.

He tried to keep himself from shouting, and failed miserably.

"Where have you been?"

Molly looked taken aback. "Mr. Ambrose was showing me his new house," she explained.

"All bloody afternoon?" He shot back, glaring at Ambrose.

"We had a lovely walk around my new neighborhood," he replied blandly.

He glanced between the two of them, trying to guess what was actually going on. "Did you want to go? Or were you coerced into going?" He finally asked Molly.

"I wanted to go," she replied before Mr. Ambrose could start yelling, which seemed inevitable given how dark his eyes had become. "Mr. Ambrose asked, and I agreed."

Wade glanced back and forth between them, attempting to find a reason to maintain his anger. "Don't you bloody well run off like that again," he growled at Molly.

She blinked in surprise. "I was told I'd have a measure of freedom under this roof when I wasn't working."

He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. "Not when it comes to _him_."

Mr. Ambrose's jaw clenched tightly. "I see." He paused, considering how he wanted to handle this situation. "Molly, darling, thank you for a glorious afternoon." He bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek, amused by the anger that flashed in Barrett's eyes. "Mr. Barrett and I obviously have a few matters to discuss, so please excuse us."

Molly had barely cleared the room before Barrett took two long steps towards him and grabbed his collar, slamming him into the wall.

"What are you doing?" He growled.

"Being attacked for walking with a young lady, apparently," Ambrose replied snidely.

"Let's not play games, Dean. What are you up to?"

Ambrose reached out and delicately pulled Barrett's hand away from his collar, making a show of straightening it again. "I told you that I wanted to marry that girl. You said I couldn't unless certain conditions were met and she decided to marry me. I've met all of your conditions, and now I'm courting her and hoping her decision goes in my favor."

Barrett's eyes widened and he stepped back as if slapped. "She'll never marry you."

The right side of Ambrose's mouth turned up. "Don't be so sure. She very much enjoyed her time with me this afternoon. And she found my home – our future home – quite suitable."

Before he really thought through the implications of such an action, Barrett brought his fist up and punched Ambrose square in his filthy lying mouth.

Ambrose stumbled back, partially out of shock and partially due to the strength of the blow. He regained his legs and brought his hand up to his mouth, which he was unsurprised to note was bleeding. He'd forgotten how hard Barrett could hit.

He looked up at him through the curtain of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He needed to be smart about this.

"I'll give you one," he said, attempting desperately to keep his temper in check. "Just…that…one."

Barrett's fists were still clenched by his sides. "So if I want to fight you I need to hit you again?" He growled, his hands flexing. "Fine by me."

There was little anyone could do to stop it after that.


	8. Chapter 8

Barrett supposed he'd won, although he certainly didn't feel like it.

After he had bodily thrown Ambrose's limp form out the front door, he had immediately retreated to his study and poured himself a drink.

He pressed the cold glass against his head, trying to tune out his wife's shrill cries from the other room.

He knew that it was absolute chaos; a sea of broken furniture and shattered glass from where Ambrose had put his head into the mirror hanging on the wall.

He didn't care.

The door rattled in the frame as someone tried to open it. Hearing his name screeched by his wife, he surmised that it was her. He wanted no part of her at the moment, so he chose not to answer. He downed the contents of his glass in one gulp and stood unsteadily to pour himself another.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before Abigail stopped screaming. Not long after, a tentative knock sounded on the door.

"Mr. Barrett?" Molly called softly. "Are you all right?"

He debated not answering again. He was still so angry with her for making such a stupid decision. But his care for her won out. "I'm fine, Molly. Leave me be."

Molly hung her head outside the door before turning to survey the mess that they had left. Mrs. Barrett had stormed out of the house some time ago, a bag in her hand.

"You can have him," she snarled at Molly before she left. Molly thought that she might be posturing. The woman wasn't foolish enough to leave a steady home. There was no way she would support herself.

She began to straighten the room as best she could, taking care with the broken glass and splintered furniture. They had fought ferociously. It had been terrifying to see.

Mr. Ambrose she knew and expected to be vicious. It was Mr. Barrett that had frightened her more. She had never before seen his face contorted into such an ugly expression of pure rage. He had moved so quickly; struck his blows with violent precision.

She began to wonder if all men were like Mr. Ambrose just beneath the surface.

After an hour of attempting to reconstruct the damaged room, she finally gave up. She'd cleared the broken shards of glass as best she could and was confident that no one would accidentally impale a foot on one that was missed.

She glanced towards the door behind which Mr. Barrett sheltered once more, and debated trying to speak to him again. She realized that, for the first time, she didn't want to talk with him.

This day had done nothing to ease her confusion regarding the situations she found herself in. If anything, the matters had only twisted into one dreadful mess instead of two separate smaller problems.

She wasn't sure if this helped or hindered the process of finding a solution.

Refusing to consider this any further, she moved past his door and made her way to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

It was around one in the morning when Wade realized that he should probably have the cut above his eyebrow stitched, as it had yet to stop bleeding.

Granted, it was down to a slow trickle at this point, but still oozing some blood here and there.

Sighing heavily, he downed one more drink and slowly made his way to Molly's room.

He knocked and shoved the door open, greeted with her sitting on her bed wide-eyed. Before he could say anything, her hand went to her mouth. "Oh…" was all she could say.

"Think you could stitch me up?" He asked, suddenly exhausted.

"Yes," she replied after a moment, pulling back the blankets and sliding out of the bed. "Yes, of course."

She reached for her robe to cover her nightgown, but he stopped her. "No need. Shouldn't take long."

She glanced at him, obviously doubtful, but left it where it was.

They moved to the room that had been set up as the infirmary, and she guided him to the seat. She studied his face for a few moments before returning with antiseptic wash, tweezers, thread, and a needle.

"You still have some glass in your face," she explained. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but it may hurt."

He nodded stoically, and she went to work.

It hurt like a bitch.

He winced several times before grasping the arms of the chair tightly and exhaling sharply.

"I'm sorry," she said with true regret. "Almost done."

When she had finished, the antiseptic wash came. He wasn't sure which hurt worse, and he heartily cursed his mother in several creative ways until the stinging faded.

Giving him barely any time to recover, she moved on to stitching the worst cut, the one directly above his eyebrow.

As the rest of the sting faded away, he became acutely aware of how close she was to him. Her breasts were only inches from his face, barely covered by the nightgown she was wearing. Without conscious thought, he reached out and put his hands on her hips.

She paused, but continued on after a moment.

He watched her chest rise and fall until he heard the gentle snick of the scissors, signifying that she had closed the wound and was cutting the thread.

"Molly," he said thoughtfully, keeping his hands on her, "why were you with that man today?"

She froze. "I suppose his asking so politely for my company caught me off-guard," she admitted. "I think that's why I said yes."

"Did you enjoy your time with him?"

She paused, considering the question. "Yes," she finally answered. "Yes, I did."

He glanced up at her. "You do realize that he's up to something."

She looked away briefly. "That's what I'm afraid of," she sighed. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "That I don't know. But I'm sure it's nothing good." He paused. "Look at me." Her eyes swung back to him. "I won't let him hurt you."

His hands had started stroking over her hips, inching lower with each motion.

"I know," she nodded, looking uncomfortable. Still, he didn't stop.

"Don't see him again," he said firmly. "Nothing good will come of it." He pulled her closer to him and rested his head against her chest, listening to her heart beat against his ear.

"Much like nothing good will come from this," she said warily, although her hand came up and began gently running back through his hair.

"_All_ the good in my life comes from this," he replied, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

They stayed in that position for several moments, arms wrapped around each other and hearts aching from being so close. Both had the same fear of getting carried away, of taking things too far, but neither verbalized it.

"Molly," he finally said reluctantly, pulling away and lightly stroking his hand over her cheek. "Go on to bed. Unfortunately, I believe I'll have to put you to work tomorrow."

She nodded and turned away without another word. She didn't trust her voice to not betray her sorrow.

Watching her retreating figure, Barrett couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't lost the fight after all.


	10. Sequel

Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, tweeting ( VitaFidens), PMing, and all of the other crazy stuff you kids do to let me know I'm not boring you to death. :)

The next part is up and is entitled "In the End, You'll Find What You Deserve." I hope you enjoy.


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